Page 21 of The Unhinged Christmas of a Cat Lady
She doesn’t even flinch. “Fi took one. Lizzie and Coop adopted the other two—technically Lizzie did, but Coop’s already started referring to himself as a ‘cat dad’ unironically.”
Omar groans into his coffee. “This is an infestation disguised as a lifestyle.”
Bri beams. “We are now officially five cat ladies. Resistance is futile.”
“Five!” I echo. “Is this a friend group or an organised cult?”
“Why not both?” she says brightly. “We’ve got matching lint rollers and everything.”
Thor attempts to climb SJ’s hoodie again, back legs flailing as he clings to the zip like he’s scaling Everest.
Bri claps her hands. “And! As another housewarming gift, I brought supplies.”
Omar sighs, already turning for the door. “I’ll get them.”
“Love you,” Bri calls after him.
I eye her warily. “What kind of supplies?”
“Kitten stuff,” she says cheerfully. “Litter trays, food, toys, the works. You think I’d turn up with live animals and no infrastructure? Please.”
I blink. “That... actually feels responsible.”
“Don’t sound so shocked. I’ve grown.”
Omar reappears a moment later, arms full: three litter trays stacked inside each other like some sort of plastic nesting doll, a massive bag of litter, tins of food, and a small bin full of crinkly, jingly, probably-already-annoying toys.
I stare. “Three trays?”
Bri nods. “Cats are territorial. You need one per catplus oneto avoid civil unrest.”
SJ looks impressed. “That’s cool.”
“It’s cat math,” Bri says, handing him a packet of tiny, feathered mice. “Very serious.”
Stella, still lingering with mild amusement, glances down the hall. “There’s a utility room with the washing machine. Might be good to put two in there?”
“Brilliant,” Bri says. “And maybe one in the family bathroom, for... overflow?”
“Perfect,” Stella replies, with the ease of someone who has never, and will never, clean a litter tray.
“Come on, SJ,” Bri says, grabbing a tray. “Let’s set up the royal thrones.”
He turns to me, glowing with purpose. “Can you hold Thor?”
“Sure,” I say, taking the wiggly kitten out of SJ’s arms. “But don’t get used to this much excitement about cat toilets. The novelty wears off.”
“I’ll always help,” SJ promises, bouncing off after Bri, arms full of feline sanitation gear.
“He’ll forget he said that within three days,” I mutter, adjusting my grip on Thor, who is now gnawing enthusiastically on a strand of my hair.
Stella laughs. “Of course he will. That’s the parenting deal.”
“And who ends up scooping the clumps?” I ask the room, to no one in particular.
Twinklesocks meows sleepily from her spot against my chest and flicks her tail like she knows exactly who.
Chapter six
